Inside, Tristan followed what he heard of the woman's footsteps - a bated crunching sound of her hard boots hitting against the pebbles. The thick darkness seemed to be swallowing everything inside it, even the sounds. Yet there was a faint light of sort with no source that told him where the ground was. He could see nothing else.
Barely a few seconds had passed since he followed her into the chasm, but the sound made it feel like she was yards ahead of him, or that there was a thick wall between them. On top of that he also felt a kind of pressure around him, not uncomfortable, but restricting. It made him sluggish, slow like walking underwater.
But there was also something else, something alarming. Unaware, he felt his reserves clearer than ever. What had been just a drop before was now an overflowing vessel. The sensation he felt of a strange energy brimming in his torso whenever he was close to this place was much stronger now. The void was as full as it could be and he was being poured more and more every passing moment.
Tristan lifted his right hand and willed a ball of light on it. He made it bigger, bigger than his head and brighter. Bright enough to sting his eyes. No drain at all, something close to his gut filled right up as he emptied it. Earlier a small and dim lime sized ball of light would have left him panting for breath, exhausted like he had run miles. And now he had so much that he felt he might burst.
Tristan saw his hands rise near his chest, palm open. The tip of his left thumb touched the middle finger and the tip of his right thumb his ring finger. His lips moved and his tongue twisted in an unfamiliar way and he mumbled words he didn't recognize. A path lightened up in front of him in the gloom, all drab and grey but clear as daylight, and the ball of light disappeared. His lips parted and cheeks stretched into a wide grin-
"-WHAT are you doing here?"
The old woman shouted, but in there it was barely above a whisper, her original tone was meticulously tempered in the darkness. Try as he might, Tristan couldn't understand her question. He looked around and saw nothingness. The woman's form walked in front of him now, with her arms crossed. He squinted to see if he could read her face but it was nothing but a grey blur.
"I asked you to wait, didn't I?"
Tristan shrugged and swallowed, hoping it would be enough, that he wouldn't need to reply.
"Fool!!!"
She clicked her tongue and cursed softly, the visible anger in her voice made him flinch and he took a step back. She looked behind him and stared for a while before turning. "Stay close to me from here on." Her suppressed tone followed and she started walking ahead.
The flat ground full of gravel descended slowly as they walked forward, air feeling lighter with each step. In the faint light Tristan saw a giant pit in the ground appearing right in front of his frightening accomplice. He saw her walk along its stony ledge and disappear underground. Tristan followed. It had a steep decline and the two carefully trudged down. At the base of it lay a wide cavern, from what he could feel by the open air that pervaded it and a flat floor of hard rocks and ankle deep cool water that seeped in through his old boots.
With his every step Tristan splashed water, the denouncing sound echoing from everywhere. He tried to control his movement, but failed miserably at ceasing the noise. The woman's walk was silent unlike his, water rippled but nothing resonated in return. He felt clumsy. He was used to being the silent one in a group. The cavern reverberated with dripping water from walls and ceilings. His senses felt on the edge. He saw holes hiding in the gloom, large, as big as a house. He turned around and saw the same sight, holes in the dark, and no sign of where they had come from. The ledge they had walked on, he couldn't find anymore. A small spring of water fell on his right shoulder. The robust force suggested it came from somewhere far above. The ever-present source-less dim light only showed the vastness of that place.
They went into one of the holes, no different than the ones near it. The floating grey shirt that was visible of the woman's form was the only direction for him to follow. His fingers constantly rubbed against each other, urging him to cast a spell to let his reserves ease a little, maybe just a simple illumination for him to see better. If he was alone he would perform, but Nowsem had warned him, again and again, his magic was to be a secret. The price of his tutelage.
'Why does it matter? Not like he can find out, the old fool must be dead already.' His treacherous mind thought in a way he could never even dream.
"Stand back!"
Tristan's heart jumped at the sudden command. Her sharp words meant to be heard, to be followed. He took few steps back before even realizing he did it. Then he took two more.
There was a pause, a murmur and suddenly little flakes burst out of her, filling the wide cavern in soft golden lights. Like hundred fireflies they floated, little illuminated orbs, splitting and proliferating each second.
Tristan shrieked when he looked down, his skin crawled like under a thousand centipedes. He spat, scrubbed the top of his tongue on his teeth, like trying to get rid of a bad taste. He spat again, and took a small breath, feeling its vile tang. A strong putrid stink hit him. His eyes burned as he looked down, tears streamed. He forced them close, and shuddered. Only for so long he could hold his breath. With the next one he gagged and emptied his stomach on his submerged feet and he doubled over. He took a gasping breath, and gagged again. His throat closed itself, suffocating him. He tried to claw his neck open, desperate to inhale, but his fingers melted in touch. He fell on his knees and started to sink into that wretched black diluted mud all around him. He opened his mouth, to force out a shout, to warn the woman, to call for help but only managed to choke.
"Breathe!"
A voice said near him, he felt a hand on his back, comfort and relief against the thousand ants crawling on his skin.
"Breathe!"
The voice restated, sterner than before, yet kind. But, how could he? Tristan opened his eyes and a caricature of the face he saw often in the mirror sneered at him from the black water below. Its teeth fell, one by one toward him. Involuntarily, he reached out his hand to catch them but couldn't. He had no hands now, they had melted. Only stumps remained. He opened his mouth to laugh, but gasped.
Two hands cupped his cheeks. He saw a face, wrinkled, old but hard. He stared at those grey eyes, which held more fire than heoir rite. Tristan noticed scars, numerous small intersections on the sagging cheeks. A big pale one on the left ran above those on her lower lip and ended on her chin. Right from its bridge, a big nose tilted awkwardly away from it. The left eyelid dropped more than the right, a scar right above it suggested its cause. There was a puckered dark scar on her right cheek that pulled the skin from all around it. Only half the left ear-
"Look into my eyes!"
The face instructed. The fire was now gone. An old tired woman who followed him into the forest without complaints had appeared.
"Eyes, young man!"
He did again, fixed his eyes on the woman he met this morning, the rider, the stranger.
"Breathe!"
He paused, and then did as he was told. The air was damp, cold with a slight hint of a rotten stink. He took another deep gulp, filled his lung as much as possible, held it, and exhaled bitterly. He never wanted to be without air again.
"How do you feel?" The woman asked as she squatted in front of his kneeling stance.
"Aaah! ... What… what happened?" Tristan groaned, as he tried to make sense of everything in that intense ringing in his head.
"An illusion, most likely because of poisoning." She paused and stood, offering him her hand to help him up. She looked at him and for the first time Tristan felt that he had her full attention. "…You ... can cast." She stated as she tilted her head slightly in interest.
Noswen's edictum came flaring back, years of teaching, trainings, warnings.
"What???"
His reply was instant. He looked at her and frowned slightly in confusion and parted his lips, to wear a fool's face. It was a practiced response, his teacher and he had been working on for years after he was almost caught by his mother. It Didn't work on her. Neither he nor his teacher were any good at hiding or acting.
"Don't bother. I can feel it in you." Tristan spotted eyes narrowing at him, and swallowed.
"I really don't know what you mean, ma'am?" Tristan asked, hoping she hadn't caught the tremble in his voice or heard his beating heart.
"Any practitioner worthy of their name will be able to detect It." she sighed. "Then again, it's not surprising to misread in here." She murmured to herself and snubbed the surroundings.
"You are new and you have too much, whoever taught you didn't consider ... this… situation." She wavered and moved her head to indicate the thick air around them. "Drain yourself before you have another fit. Cast the biggest spell you can."
Once he was sure that she wasn't going to leave him alone in there, the reserves foreboded within him. She was right and he could feel it too, it was simply too much. With each heartbeat his veins threatened to burst, and for a moment he was tempted to slit his wrist and drain himself for release. But that was not going to work for him. He didn't know that many spells, especially ones that were big enough to drain him. His reserves were never big before, barely worth anything, so his lessons also were such.
He saw the woman step even farther away from him, felt his stomach drop, and anxiously ran after her.
"Twice have you ignored my warning today, son." The old woman spoke gravely as he sloshed near her. Her words lacked accusations, but was tinted with disappointment instead, which he realized made him more uncomfortable. He looked down embarrassed, feeling strangely chastised, though he had no reason to listen to her. She seemed to have read his mind as she tilted her head slightly to her left.
"I am telling this for your own good, this place…is dangerous."
"I don't - I don't know any big spell." Tristan succumbed. No point trying to hide what was already out. She nodded and suddenly gripped the side of his head with her right hand before he could react. Her rough thumb trailed up and down in the middle of his forehead. It burned and his head tried to jerk back and he took a sharp deep breath in. His head didn't move however. Her grip, strong as iron, didn't loosen and she dug the nail of her thumb. He felt like a knife was slowly piercing his skull, and screamed. More as a reaction in shock than of pain, it was too quick before the agony lodged in his senses.
The woman let go of his head and pushed him down, her hand still outstretched in front. He wobbled on his feet but didn't fall. He felt all his energy draining out of his forehead, along with his reserves. Empty completely, like hunger but in his core instead of stomach, and after what was like feeling stuffed till his neck for days and no way of getting rid of it, it was the best feeling he had had.
"Thank you." He muttered in his utmost gratitude.
The woman glared distantly at him. "I'm Ava Anlauf, from Sharak."